


Better than Batman

by oneorangeshoelace



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 10:14:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneorangeshoelace/pseuds/oneorangeshoelace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and David watch "Batman Begins" together. David notices some similarities between Christian Bale and Jack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better than Batman

“Jack, do we really have to do this?” David whined.

“Yes,” Jack said decisively. “You’re sixteen years old and you’ve never seen a Batman movie, Dave. I don’t know what that means in whatever…book-filled nerd world you live in, but in my world—the real world—it is a tragedy that must be fixed ASAP. Besides, the Batman movies are actually fucking awesome, I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

“They’re superhero movies. I’m an intellectual.”

“Batman is amazing and smart and you are not either of those things if you don’t like him because Batman is the best thing ever.”

“There are definitely better things that Batman, Jack.”

“Nope! Nada. Never ever, nothing is better than Batman. End of discussion, I am pressing play, shut up. Actually, I know all the dialogue by heart, so feel free to tell me everything you think during the movie. And I mean everything.”

“Jack— ”

“Please, come on, pleeease. I read like three books by fuckin’ Kurt Vonnegut for you, you owe me.”

"You owe me for making you read Vonnegut because he’s a vitally important American voice, and besides, you loved God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater.”

"Okay, fine, I did, but—oh, my god, just watch the movie, Dave."

“Fine,” David grumbled, and settled back on the couch next to Jack, internally deciding not to suspend his disbelief, to remain cool and aloof and wry for the entire movie, which was bound to be stupid anyway.

By “Why do we fall, Bruce?” David was completely sucked in, and even gasped a little at the line, oblivious to Jack’s smug grin.

“Don’t be afraid.” As David watched Bruce’s parents die, he was uncomfortably reminded of what he knew about Jack’s own family background. Knowing Jack wouldn’t accept too much comfort, he rested his head against Jack’s shoulder and smiled gently when Jack looked down at David to track his movement instinctively.

When the movie flashed forward to the present, David was momentarily drawn out and had to glance at Jack. 

“He looks like you. Or you look like him. Like a lot like him,” David said, sounding something like awed.

“I look like who? Alfred?”

“No, Batman. Bruce Wayne—Christian Bale. Like your cheekbones and your eyes especially, you just—you’re a dead ringer, Jack. Hasn’t anyone ever said that to you before?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, David.”

“I’m serious! I mean, he’s obviously older and more muscular than you, but definitely. You look just like him.”

Jack decided to let the comment on musculature slide, and tipped his chin back in a mix of pride and sudden self-consciousness. “Well. Thanks.”

“Sure,” David replied, and chose to smile fondly at Jack’s vanity instead of rolling his eyes, settling back against his friend.

“Spelunking?” Bruce Wayne said onscreen with utter commitment, and David burst out laughing, making Jack grin again.

Then Bruce Wayne was working on the Batcave, and: “Oh my God he has nice arms,” David blurted. “He is really cute. He has…very large arm muscles. Bigger than yours, so that is one difference between you.”

“My arm muscles are big!” Jack squawked indignantly, and David appraised them with a mock unimpressed look on his face. 

“Ehh. They’re all right.”

The rest of the movie continued in much the same way, alternating between David reacting to the actual plot and lines, and to Christian Bale.

“I can’t—he’s swimming in the fucking fountain. I cannot,” was all that David could say at one point.

Later: “Cillian Murphy is cute, too. But Christian Bale is cuter.”

“OHHH THAT’S SO—HE CALLED FOR BACK-UP, AND—BATS” was another exclamation, after which he slapped Jack lightly on the arm for laughing at him.

“Christian Bale is seriously such a cutie that I’m almost having trouble taking him seriously,” he commented at a random point.

“You better fucking be taking Batman seriously,” Jack said threateningly, and David stuck his tongue out eloquently.

“I do love Lucius Fox. Morgan Freeman is a god of acting,” David said later.

“Christian Bale is so fucking hot,” David all but moaned later, and this time he noticed Jack tense up next to him, and cringed. “I’m sorry, is—am I making you uncomfortable, expressing my sexuality?” he asked, half worried and half annoyed.

“I mean—no—no, you’re fine, I promise, I just—because you—never mind. Hey, wow, Katie Holmes is really hot. Okay, look, now we’re even. Doesn’t matter, Dave,” Jack said as casually as possible.

David regarded Jack for a moment, who only clenched his jaw and stared passively at the screen. A guilty recollection of comparing Jack to the person he had been sexually objectifying for the whole movie returned suddenly to David, and a vague idea formed. “Okay. Okay, if you say so. Really, it’s fine?”

“Really, it’s fine, Dave!” Jack insisted, leaning forward. “Dude, if it was a problem, I would have said something, I promise. But I haven’t said anything, because. It’s not a problem.”

“Okay. All right.”

“Jesus,” Jack said, leaning back again and draping one arm casually over the back of the couch behind David.

Five minutes later: “Fucking Christ, Christian Bale is beautiful. I hope someone kisses him in this movie. It would be such a waste otherwise.”

Shortly after that: “God, men who work out are sexy. May the Lord deliver me from temptation.”

And after that: “His eyes are really, really gorgeous. His eyes and his cheekbones, especially.”

After each of these comments, he felt Jack tense slightly next to him, and had to fight valiantly to keep the smirk off his face. 

Finally, as Rachel kissed Bruce, David cheered genuinely, and said, “Good! Someone had to kiss those pretty lips during this movie,” and then gave a dramatic sigh and said sardonically, “Too bad it couldn’t have been me. He looks like a good kisser, though, really.”

Although he had been purposely riling Jack up this entire time, the one thing he had not been expecting was for Jack to abruptly pause the movie and turn to crush their lips together, pressing David back against Jack’s arm still draped across the back of the couch. David’s mind went blank and his blood rushed in his ears as his hands made the unconscious decision to tighten in the fabric of Jack’s shirt.

The kiss ended as abruptly as it started: David gasped and tried to follow Jack’s lips with his own as Jack pulled away quickly, babbling, “Fuck, David, I’m so sorry, I really shouldn’t have—it’s just that you—fuck, but it’s not your fault, it’s my fault, I just—I’m sorry, we can just forget about this—”

“Kiss me again,” David murmured, his eyes still closed.

“I—what?”

David opened his eyes, and Jack was surprised and more than a little gratified to see that David’s bright blue eyes were dazed and well on their way to lust-blown. “I said, kiss me again,” David demanded. 

Jack’s mind took a moment to catch up to the situation, but when it did, he leaned in carefully and this time he kissed David softly and languidly, taking his time. David made a noise that was a cross between a sigh and a moan and cupped Jack’s face with his hands.

Jack pulled away again, this time just far enough to murmur, “So who would you think is a better kisser—me or Christian Bale?”

“You. Definitely you. Please don’t stop,” David gasped, and Jack didn’t need any extra encouragement to kiss David again, this time cautiously licking past the crease of David’s mouth, who accepted the soft press of his tongue with a noise that Jack decided was probably illegal.

David eased out of the kiss after a moment. “So is this why ‘expressing my sexuality’ wasn’t a problem earlier?” he asked wryly.

“Oh my god, shut up,” came Jack’s amazing comeback, and David decided for once in his life that shutting up was an excellent idea.

A few minutes later, he found himself straddling Jack’s lap with Jack’s arms around his slim waist, and decided he had to break the kiss for one last comment. Resting his hands on Jack’s biceps, he murmured, “For the record, your arm muscles are actually amazing. Very large.”

“Damn right,” Jack said, and kissed him again, once, before he remembered: “Hey, we should probably…finish the movie.”

“Seriously?” David made a noise of clear displeasure. “How much time is left?”

“Uh, like…ten minutes.”

After a moment of thought, David tangled his fingers into Jack’s hair. “You can give me the summary later. Right now, I think we have better things to do.”

If Jack’s hard kiss directly following the end of David’s sentence was any indication, even Jack had to agree that there were just a few things that were better than Batman.


End file.
